


women like us

by ohwhatagloomyshow



Category: Cinderella (2015), Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Worldbuilding, gals bein pals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatagloomyshow/pseuds/ohwhatagloomyshow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the week before Ella's wedding and everyone has been invited. An aging monarch comes to visit and speak with the soon-to-be queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“My Queen, truly, you should wait for spring.” 

The aide was in her mid-twenties with six months experience and she thought she was helping. 

The Queen was nearing her eighties with too many months of experience and she didn’t like repeating herself.

“We received the invitation last season, I responded immediately, I am packed: therefore, Amelia, I am attending the wedding.”

The hall was a darkening shade of gold; their heels were the only noise in this deserted part of the castle. Histories unveiled themselves on the tapestries they passed; painted eyes watched them as they made their way closer to the Queen’s chambers. Dusk was coming on and the castle was slowing for the evening, and the Queen wished that her aide would just take the rest of the time off, like the rest of her servants.

It was incredible how quickly the Queen could walk, and the aide found herself panting as she tried to stay in step. “Your Highness, the _carriage_ —the _snow_ —the _distance_! Truly it can’t be safe!”

One of the fairies’ gifts had been cheerfulness; on further reflection, it should have been patience.

“Amelia, _please_.” They had finally arrived at the chamber doors, and the Queen’s hands curled around the door handle as she turned to face the young woman, who nearly quivered before her. “I appreciate your work and your care and your concern but _let me be_. I am going, Maleficent shall take care of things while I’m gone, and I promise you, sweetheart.” Finally, the cheerfulness made itself known; the girl’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of the Queen’s smile without quite knowing _why_. “I promise you, personally, that I shall not die on this journey.”

It made the girl sigh and nod and curtsey, and leave with as much dignity and grace as she could muster.

“ _Gracious_.” Aurora opened the doors to her chamber and was hit with a soft cold winter wind; the room was chilled beyond comfort and now, alone, with such bright fresh air, she finally felt relaxed. For a moment she took refuge in the contrast between the warm-looking light and cold reality, wishing for summer days while shivering in the anticipation of snow. 

Diaval’s granddaughter, as bright and eager as a spring day, waited patiently on the vanity; she croaked at the sight of Aurora, who grinned and returned a greeting. “Would you be so kind as to fetch Maleficent for me?” she asked as she stepped forward, removing her crown and undoing the elaborate bun at the nape of her neck.

The raven did the nearest thing it could to a smile and flew from the room without another question. Aurora undid the most uncomfortable parts of her dress and had slid into a comfortable fur by the time Maleficent arrived, beautiful and terrible as she ducked on the windowsill, her wings returning to their resting positon.

“You’re looking very well today, beastie,” she smiled in greeting, coming forward so she could kiss Aurora’s forehead hello.

“Oh, I wish you would stop saying that every time you saw me,” Aurora blushed, self-conscious, as Maleficent took a seat beside her on the large, soft bed. Fairies aged so differently than humans; while Aurora’s hair had gone gray and white years back; while her knees and back started to fail; while her face was sagged with wrinkles and laugh lines, Maleficent seemed to have aged a year for each of Aurora’s decades. It was painful to look at her sometimes; it made her heart ache.

“What would you rather have me say, then?” Maleficent grinned, crossing her legs. “ _Darling, today you don’t look a day over sixty-five_!”

Aurora returned a small smile. “Yes, I do believe that would be better.”

The two settled against the pillows at the headrest, taking a moment of silence to soak in each other’s company. It had been a few weeks since they had been able to spend time with each other in this way, and they were loath to waste the moment.

It was only when Aurora realized that she was beginning to fall asleep that she spoke. “You’re ready to take command for the next two weeks?”

“Just as ready as I was when you asked in the fall.” Aurora nodded and grinned, and added, “I hope I haven’t taken much advantage of your availability over the past…well.”

“I can count on one hand the times I’ve had to take over for you,” the faerie replied gently. “You’ve put your love and energy into this kingdom. It shows.” She took Aurora’s hand. “I don’t know how anyone will get on without you. I do believe there are some peasant folk who are convinced that you are the reason the sun comes up every morning. I fear there will be a revolt against me.” The last was only a light tease, but the fear of an uprising haunted Aurora more often than not. No one could know when she would die, and she hadn’t produced an heir of any kind—

Fears could wait until _after_ the wedding. They said their goodbyes with parting kisses as the stars shone brightly in the night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

The carriages had been packed for days; the morning was spent with final goodbyes to her council with explicit instructions to do just as Maleficent advised. Years ago the oldest of the group would grimace at the thought, remembering and standing strong with Stefan’s hatred of the faerie, but time had passed and now there was no man or woman among them that did not trust Maleficent with their life. 

Maleficent helped Aurora into the carriage and Diaval’s children and grandchildren flew with her for miles. She waved goodbye when the last great-grandchild headed back to the Moors; the rest of the day was spent learning about the new king and queen from her personal maid. The girl was Ella and she came from a modest background; the more she spoke of the new queen the more Aurora found herself relating, and found her heart aching. There were many things her maid did not know, but the Aurora explored every inch of her knowledge as the days passed and grew colder. Aurora’s kingdom had not worked alongside the new queen’s kingdom in generations; there was hope that the new king would be open to negotiations, or that the new queen would be able to convince him. Aurora’s appearance at the wedding was just another small political move, but as the days went on it seemed to become a mission: to help this new queen.

They arrived on the dawn of the fourth day of their travels, and Aurora marveled at the beauty and grace of such a small, succinct castle (she was only inside for a few moments when she realized how very large it was; from the outside, however, she couldn’t understand how it could function without at least one tower). The staff was cheerful if harried; they had just one more day to prepare for the wedding and were expecting at least three more prominent guests. Aurora was greeted by the captain of the guards and he was kind to walk at her pace and kind to answer every question she had: the location of her room, the availability of the new queen, would she be able to see Ella before the wedding.

“She’s having tea in her parlor right now, Your Majesty.” Aurora looked to the sky and calculated it must be her first cup in the morning; before she was able to say no, please, I can wait to see her until she is quite ready for the day, the captain had left her with a guard in the opening hall and a promise to return in just a moment. She sighed and readjusted her furs and asked the guard several questions about himself (had he slept well the previous night; was he married; what was his favorite room of the palace) before the captain returned with a cheerful grin.

“It would be my honor to escort you to Her Majesty.” Aurora had no choice to take his arm and be led through the rest of the castle. It looked quite similar to how her own had looked just a year after she had taken over: remnants of the previous ruler remained the centerpieces on every table and every wall, but pieces of personality of the new young woman were coming through: heavy curtains were open for sunlight and every vase held a bouquet of hellebores. It was a pleasant walk and, for a moment, she was quite pleased for it, even at the expense of the new queen’s first private hours of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be in Ella's point of view!


	3. Chapter 3

Kit knew, early on, that their wedding had to be a grand celebration. “It’s been so many years since the kingdom has been able to celebrate anything,” he told her in his secret garden, she in the swing and he sitting at her feet. “Of course, the ball was one thing—but that was a farce. I knew I wanted _you_. And this— _everyone_ can be happy.” He gave her that silly grin and clutched her hand so much tighter. “As Father grew ill, he turned our trades insular; we haven’t had good relations with the surrounding kingdoms for many years. I want to have everyone at our wedding; I want it to be the largest party this side of the world has seen in generations!”

His enthusiasm was infectious; Ella knew he would have orchestrated the entire event if he had only had the time. As it was, she was happy to take up the planning; he oversaw everything, and she was able to meet with him over teas and dinners and midnight strolls for suggestions and requests in order to turn it into the perfect wedding for him. 

She had never been one to dream of a wedding—for the last few years she had only dreamed of Lady Tremaine and the step sisters giving her just _ten minutes_ of peace. When girls tended to dream of their wedding, she was dreaming of her mother, and then her father, and under her stepmother she realized that her chances of marriage had vanished. 

Sometimes, alone in her bed, the thought of their wedding killed her—how could she possibly create a family with Kit if her own family was gone? How could she meet him without her father on her arm? It kept her up some nights, tossing and turning and occasionally crying, unexpectedly overcome by the melancholy of it all. She hid it from Kit; his grief for his father was still fresh, and she did not feel the need to add her miseries to his. And anyway, even when she was the farthest gone in a lull of gloominess, the thought of Kit waiting for her, of Kit placing a ring on her finger, of Kit _marrying_ her, cheered her up more often than it didn’t. 

So, for him, she threw herself into wedding planning –the list was a mile long and her fingers and wrists ached after long sessions of invitation-writing. She asked questions about each monarchy she came across; while she penned invitations to both kings and queens, she had more curiosity about the women. Every inquiry was met with a memorable detail or story, so that it would be that much easier for her to tell them apart. There was the redheaded queen in the North who refused to eat anything that came from the sea; the short queen from the South who was to be given the room the closest to the library; and the queen from the East who had the longest, loveliest hair on the continent. 

“This one? Queen Aurora?” she asked her advisor, who struggled immensely to make heads-or-tails of the seating chart. 

“Oh, she’s an interesting one.” Ella smiled and she felt her heart lift: her advisor Christina was an excellent storyteller and seemed to know everything about everyone. “Which tale would you like to hear?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Christina let down her pen and Ella turned, growing more excited by the moment. There was a conspiratorial grin in her advisor’s eye. “There’s a lot of mystery surrounding that one—her kingdom was secretive for generations _before_ her scandal, and no one is quite sure what to make of her origin! I’ve heard at least five different tales.” 

“Which is your favorite?” Ella asked, leaning forwards, elbows on knees, chin in hands. She grinned as Christina matched her pose and began her tale. 

And, oh, what a glorious tale it was! Broken hearts and vengeance and curses and true love and even a dragon! The baby Aurora, cursed at her christening by a witch who had not received an invitation to the party! Three Good Faeries, whisking the girl away to safety! A commoner who was in truth a Prince! The curse falling upon the princess; the prince captured by the evil witch! His escape, the witch’s exile, and the prince breaking the kiss with True Love! 

“Oh that sounds _much_ too good to be true!” Ella laughed and clapped as Christina finished her tale. “It’s so marvelous!” 

“I’ve heard a version where the witch and Queen Aurora became friends afterwards.” The advisor wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, so I like this one.” 

“Queen Aurora sounds like a very interesting woman.” It was with some sadness Ella forced herself back to invitation-writing. “I do hope she and her king can come.” 

“She’s actually not married,” Christina corrected with a smirk. “There are some fascinating rumors about _that_ , too!” 

“What about the prince that saved her?” 

“The safest guess is that he died—well, he either died _before_ or _after_ the wedding, which could make her widowed. Either way, a single Queen.” 

It took a few moments for the wonder of that statement to sink in. An unmarried woman doing whatever she wished—in charge of an entire kingdom. The entire story filled her with awe, and it was this queen she was the most eager to meet. 

Fall became a mild winter by the time all of the invitations returned; every queen was planning on attending, and a few kings agreed to come as well, and the rest of the weeks were spent airing out the guest rooms of the castle as Ella memorized as much as she could about each visiting monarchy. The date was set for March and the earliest queens arrived in mid-February: they were kind and gracious and lovely, and each introduction terrified her more and more. They were so _talented_ at what they did—they could hold the most riveting shallow conversation one minute and discuss minute details of foreign policy the next. They were gracious and gentle and threw Ella into fits of anxiety when she remembered that within a fortnight, within days, _within hours_ , she would be expected to do the same. 

By the last morning she had nearly forgotten about the last Queen: breakfast tea had become a refuge where she could simply sit and _be_. So when the guard’s knock came and startled her into remembering her duties, she nearly couldn’t stop trembling. He pretended not to notice her shaking hands as he informed her of Queen Aurora’s arrival, and she pretended to be relaxed when she said she would love to see the Queen. 

_One last time to be reminded of how much I will fail, and then I shall be married, and I will make Lady Tremaine proud with how terribly I—_ The gentle knock of Queen Aurora startled her out of her thoughts and encouraged her shaking hands to spill her tea. “You may come in!” If she failed at everything else, she was excellent about keeping control over her tone; she sounded just as calm as any other capable soon-to-be-queen should. She placed a handkerchief over the spill and by the time the Queen entered, Ella was able to hide her shaking hands in the folds of her dress. 

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, lowering herself into a deep, low bow before the Queen. 

Queen Aurora was graying and wrinkled and her eyes shone with the spirit of a much younger woman. Her hair was kept in a loose knot at her neck, and small flowers were woven throughout her hair in place of a crown. Her dress was of modest cut and make although it was an extravagant light golden color. She looked absolutely nothing like the decked-out queens of the past month, with their gold and silver and ivory crowns and dresses of silk and lace; something about the flower crown relaxed Ella just a bit, and her breathing slowed. 

“I’m so delighted to meet you, Ella. My congratulations to you both.” The Queen was beautiful when she smiled, and Ella did her best to control her trembling when she held out her hand. By the way the Queen smiled, Ella knew her fake calm wasn’t fooling anybody, and when the captain closed the door, the Queen spoke frankly. “I understand—nerves are a difficult thing to overcome, but trust me, you have nothing to fear from me. I am the last person you should feel intimidated by.” 

Ella smiled and offered the Queen the seat across from hers. “I have heard that sentence too many times over the past year and yet I still cannot help but be intimidated by everyone who feels compelled to utter it.” The Queen nodded in a sympathetic way, and Ella felt her shoulders loosen. “I am so pleased you could make it to our wedding, Queen Aurora. And I’ve—I’ve so wanted to meet you. I’ve heard many stories over the past few months and I’ve—well, I’ve been quite craving to ask you some questions!” She knew the sentence must sound rehearsed, because it was, but for the first time it was sincere. 

Queen Aurora grinned politely and reached for her tea. “And what version of my life have you heard?” 

“I’m sorry, versions?” 

“Just as there will be versions of your story, my dear. There are those already suggesting that the King fell in love with you just at the sight of you, at the ball, yes?” 

This was not how the first meeting was supposed to go—Queen Aurora was supposed to jump into her own life story, not repeat Ella’s. “Yes—you’ve heard _those_ stories?” 

Queen Aurora laughed lightly, and Ella knew it was an attempt to put her at ease but all it did was raise her curiosity. “I could guess it. I promise there will be more absurd ones to come.” 

Her body still hummed with anxiety but she could almost ignore it now—this shift from the typical script was refreshing and it was calming her down. If she focused, she would be intimidated and frightened by Queen Aurora’s absolute ease at having a perfect first introduction, but she was too curious, too confused, to analyze the Queen’s actions as she normally would. 

“You say that you’ve been eager to meet me, and I am quite glad to hear it, because I have been eager to meet you, as well.” 

“Me?” Ella smiled politely and her heart sank, for here was the return to the script—as suddenly as it had gone, it arrived again. “Why, I’m not so interesting.” 

“You and I are quite alike, you know.” Queen Aurora leaned forward to put down her tea and saucer, and as she came closer Ella had to ignore the urge to lean in, too. “For more reasons than you can guess.” She was aware of the gravity of her tone, her message, and it startled Ella when the queen winked—a comforting, conspiratorial thing. Ella smiled and kept herself from asking the hundred questions that had formed on her tongue, waiting for the queen to speak again. 

And she did. Queen Aurora looked around the room, sighed contentedly to herself, and opened her mouth. “I was rather frustrated when your captain brought me straight to your door; when I said I wanted to meet with you I didn’t mean _immediately_. I know how stressful these events can be and I’m sure you need a minute to breathe. Please, let me leave you to your breakfast in peace, and we will talk again.” 

Ella wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger in that moment, sadness or relief. Either way she stood and shook hands with the queen, until the queen pulled her into a gentle hug goodbye. “Please come and see me when you have a free time, dearest. You know what room they’ve put me in, and I’m not a good sleeper. You come by and knock whenever you have the chance, and we’ll have a good chat.” 

When the queen released her, she was no longer just a queen—she was a friend. Ella nodded and agreed to come see her after dinner, and there was something in the movement of Aurora’s hands that reminded Ella that they weren’t just queens but two peasant girls in ball gowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me when i came up with this story: yeah shit i can write that in 10 minutes  
> me months later: sorry about that


End file.
